


Fall too hard if I hit the ground

by Hopeful_Foolx



Series: Whumptober 2019 [16]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 17 follows, Caleb is a hurt baby, Gen, Hurt Caleb Widogast, Hurt/Comfort, I will finish that, I will write this damn thing I tell you, I'm Sorry, Impaled, Muffled scream, Road Fic, They are just soft, We love Caduceus, Whump, Whumptober 2019, also, he also has feelings, i mixed day 16 and 18, like a lot, pinned down, until next october for sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 03:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21570253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeful_Foolx/pseuds/Hopeful_Foolx
Summary: Caleb can't move. He is stuck. He is alone. He is also bleeding out but who has time fot that part?!
Relationships: Caleb Widogast & The Mighty Nein
Series: Whumptober 2019 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1508756
Comments: 5
Kudos: 256





	Fall too hard if I hit the ground

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to Jack in a Box Jesus I will finish this series my void  
> I am not sure if I like the fact that I mixed the days 16 and 18, but maybe I will write day 16 seperately. Day 17 follows. I promise.  
> Title from Barns Courtneys 'Goodbye John Smith'

He was running out of time. He knew that. But it was a bit difficult to concentrate on that.

Because right now, there was no time 

_ No time no time no time no time  _

The bolt was still in him, it was sticking out of his side, one out of his shoulder, pinning him to the wooden tree, impaling him. And he had to stand, stand perfectly still and it wasn’t even hard, his whole body one cramped muscle, pressed against the tree behind him. 

He was panting, the time it took for him to register what had happened had been too long, now he was just standing here, pinned, impaled, panting, sweating. One hand rendered useless, the other one pressed to his mouth, No screaming. No shouting. The others were busy, he had gotten seperated in the fight, his fault. 

_ your fault your fault your fault  _

He didn’t even remember how, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t sure about anything more than the damp feeling behind him, the grass, the loud green around him, the way his knees were shaking, how loud his breathing was. How cold he felt. How badly he wanted to fall.

No. When the arrow first hit him, his knees nearly buckled, he moved, just a bit, barely containing his scream. It had left bite marks on his hand. Red.

Now his hand was cramped over his mouth, marks forgotten. He was breathing through his nose, if he was breathing at all. 

_ Caleb _

It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it, or if it was the fault of somebody else than him. He hadn’t looked up. He had cast the firebolt that killed the bandit. He did it, he did it and wanted to flee, memories flooding his mind until it nearly went blank but it did not, because then there was only pain and the pain brought him back. Rendered him useless against the tree. It was not like he could see well, strands of hair in his eyes and no hand to push them away, no strenght, everything he had went into his legs, to keep his legs from buckling under him, to keep him from falling. Everything he had left made him stand straight against the tree. 

_ Caleb! _

Where were the others? Were they dead? Did they die? Was the fight over and he was now alone? Doomed to die alone in the woods, pinned to a tree? He was useless, he couldn’t move, of course he’d die here, eaten by animals and torn to shreds by them. What if he didn’t bleed out in time for it? What if he was still alive, useless, so useless, and they- 

He heard his breath hitch in his throat, felt his heart racing as if it wanted to escape his chest, but please, that would work, would actually be better, a quick death if his heart would rip itself out. Better than being torn to shreds by wolves or gnolls, oh please god no gnolls - everything but no gnolls! But they would maybe take him alive, and maybe keep him alive and he could flee - but what was the point? When the others were dead? Where would he go? He would be back to square one, and no, he couldn’t do that. Better to die, like Molly died. But without being buried, there would be nothing left of him if 

Nott and Jester and Beau and- 

“Caleb! Guys, I found him! Caduceus! We need you here!” 

Hallucinations. He was hallucinating now, surely he was. Beau was not here, Beauregard died, they all died, the mighty nein died and he was loosing blood and hallucinating.

_ You’re dead, they’re all dead _

“Caleb, hey there.” Beau. Still her voice. Her hand was cool against his face and she was getting his red tousled hair out of his eyes. 

“Caduceus here in a minute, he’ll heal you right up - wait, are you crying?” 

Was he? He didn’t know, his face was too hot, water would be nice. She tried to take his hand away from his mouth but he kept it there as good he could, shook his head an inch and whimpered at the movement, just to clasp his hand over his traitorous mouth even more, he dug his nails into his numb cheeks, everything, anything to keep himself from crying out, from making a noise. Beau was shaking, or maybe he was, because he saw her through tears. Maybe he was actually crying. Maybe he was actually dead. Beau kept quiet now, her hand on his uninjured shoulder, pressing down there. 

“We need to get the bolt out, then I can heal him. Fjord, he is barely standing, hold him up for me, yes?” 

_ No, no, please don’t touch me, please no, don’t don’t _

He saw Caduceus in front of him, as his own head lolled to the side, his hand still clasped so tight, so tight, and he saw his face. His ears laid back, still he seemed so calm. He kept his eyes fixed on Caduceus, fixed on his face, his eyes, his hair, just looking at him. 

“None of that now, Mr. Caleb. It’s okay. It will be over in a second, just look at me, yes?”

_ Yes yes yes yes no please don’t touch don’t look yes  _

Someone touched him and he barely even flinched, eyes on Caduceus, eyes fixed on him, looking at the calm face. 

It hurt when Fjord grabbed him under the armpits to hold him up, it hurt but it was okay, it was not dying and he was not dead and he wouldn’t die or maybe he would but he deserved to be alone but he was here and not alone, and speaking of, where was Nott, where was-

A sound. 

A ripping sound beneath his thoughts, one, two, and a feeling, a sensation that was only pain but still, it was far away. He was ripped apart from the outside, inside. He heard a noise, and he did taste blood as the world grew fuzzy and Caduceus went from pink to grey, to grey and nearly black as it grew dark around him. 

Bees.

He was thinking of bees. He was choking.

He was shaking and crying and he knew, he knew he would die now, as he deserved, with his friends whom he did not deserve- 

“Get his hand away from his mouth, he can’t breathe like that.”  _ Don’t touch me don’t touch me  _ And air in his lungs but he was still not really breathing and he heard someone sobbing oh please no let Jester be okay, Jester shouldn’t sob but it sounded so different, choked and raspy and more like coughing and he was still not getting enough air. 

“Oh  _ Cay _ leb” That was Jester, she was… She was… He sucked in air but it hurt, he was torn apart, gnolls ripping in his side and bleeding out and he was- 

A hand on his face. Small, and warm, and stroking away the tears. Tears? Why?

“Yeah, we’ll take care of that right away…” 

Warm. Caduceus’ magic was warm and warm was good. Warm. A warm wave, like warm water, instead of fire, warm water and… 

He blinked. The world was no longer grey. It was… it was no longer dark. It was bright and there were too many colours. 

The pain was gone. He was no longer choking. He could still hear himself breathing, but it was different. Hitched and ragged but quieter. 

“There we go… This is all better now…” 

Gods he was tired. The absence of pain made him that, right? He was no longer dying? He wouldn’t die. 

And the ground was soft, and cold, and wet but he didn’t really care as long as he could just lay here. Just sleep. Just rest?

He didn’t. 

Somehow they made it back to camp. Somehow he forgot that they had a cart. Somehow he ended up in said cart. 

Sat against a warm weight to his side, pink fur on his cheek. The smell of wet earth. Warmth. 

And sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and still being here despite me torturing my favorite characters?


End file.
